


Irregular Regular

by punkbean



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, coffee shop AU, jem gets flirty, will gets flustered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkbean/pseuds/punkbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their fingers brushed as he took the coffee. “Will you be working this shift all the time now?” he asked, wrapping his hands around the warmth of the cup. </p><p>Jem nodded. “I think so, yes.” </p><p>“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, grinning and wiggling his fingers in a wave before he left the cafe.</p><p>Suddenly the thought of another morning shift didn’t seem quite so daunting.</p><p>--</p><p>Heronstairs coffee shop AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irregular Regular

Jem liked to think of himself as a patient person, but working in a coffee shop really tried his patience sometimes. 

It was an independent cafe in Soho, and despite the reputation of Londoners being rude, the majority of customers were extremely polite when Jem made their coffee. 

Even when he’d just started working and he got more than a few orders wrong, most people were very understanding.

Not everyone was like that, of course.

Awkward customers came in a few categories:

The listers, who liked to reel off a thousand coffee preferences at a million miles an hour and expected Jem to remember each and every one of them without asking questions. 

The ‘simple’ customers, usually aged forty and above, who thought they were doing Jem a favour by asking for ‘coffee’ and refusing to give more specifics. 

(These could be divided into two subcategories: ones who laughed at ‘these millennials and their fancy drinks, what happened to a simple coffee?’, and ones who genuinely didn’t realise that their order of ‘coffee’ wasn’t enough for Jem to know that they wanted a mocha.)

The worst category was the angry customer. These could be any combination of the above two categories, or neither, but they would always find something to complain loudly about. 

Jem was dealing with one of these now. 

Jem was just pouring the milk into the macchiato the man had ordered when he leaned over the counter, right into Jem’s personal space. 

Jem stopped pouring the milk and looked up, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “Is something the matter?”

“You call that a macchiato?” the man demanded, gesturing towards the coffee. 

Jem tried not to think about how the damn drink was already getting cold, and the man would demand that he make another one after all this fuss if it wasn’t hot enough when he got around to drinking it. 

“Yes,” he said shortly, looking down to continue pouring the milk. 

The man made a noise of protest. “It’s practically a cup of warm milk.”

Jem stopped pouring the milk, glancing down to look at the coffee. “Would you like me to remake it with less milk?” he asked. 

At least if he remade it he would be able to drink the spare coffee. 

“I don’t have time for that, just put a lid on it,” the man snapped, pointedly checking his watch and glaring at Jem. 

Jem resisted the urge to give an exasperated sigh, thinking back to what his parents used to tell him about kindness being more powerful than anything else.

He put a lid on the cup and didn’t even get a chance to give it to the man before he snatched it up himself and stormed out of the cafe. 

Jem closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long breath. 

He usually only worked weekday afternoons, when the cafe was mostly quiet. However, one of his coworkers, Gabriel, had wheedled him into switching shifts with him. 

Now he was working the morning shift, though, and he had far more angry and hurried businessmen to contend with. 

He almost found himself longing for the parents and their horrible toddlers who ran riot around the cafe, but really, Jem preferred the businessmen. At least they didn’t give him a headache most of the time.

At least the morning rush had died down now, though. He could only imagine how much more irritable macchiato man would have been if the cafe had been busy and Jem couldn’t focus all his attention on him. 

Jem’s eyes were still closed when there was a voice behind him. 

“Rough morning?” asked someone with a lilting accent.

Jem wheeled around to see a man at the counter. A voice in the back of his mind worried about how long he’d been waiting, but he didn’t look annoyed. 

He was smiling – no, smirking – at Jem, and only a moment after he’d looked at him, Jem registered how handsome he was. 

He had a charming smile, a mess of dark curly hair, and a glint in his bright blue eyes.

Jem realised he was staring like an idiot and quickly stepped over. 

“You could say that,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows. 

“An Americano, please,” the man said, jingling around in his jeans pocket for change. 

“Sit in or take away?” Jem asked as he handed the coins over. 

“I’d love to stay but I don’t have time,” he said, sliding his hands back into his pockets when he’d paid. 

Jem allowed himself an amused smile, turning to make his coffee. “With or without milk?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“Without,” the man said, walking around to stand at the side of the counter where he could watch Jem make his drink. 

Jem went through the familiar motions of making the coffee: beans in the filter, filter in the machine, hot water through the filter.

He was just making sure the filter was securely attached to the machine when the man spoke up again. 

“Where’s Gabriel?” he asked, resting his elbows against the counter.

“He made me switch shifts with him. He didn’t really give a reason, but I don’t think he liked getting up early,” Jem explained. So this was probably a regular customer. 

The man snorted and rolled his eyes. “That sounds like Gabriel,” he said. Jem thought he might be Welsh.

“You know him?” Jem asked, taking a cup from the stack. 

“You could say that. He’s my neighbour and he seems to hate everything I do. And of course he ended up being a barista at my favourite coffee shop,” he explained. “But the coffee here is good enough that I was willing to overcome my hatred of him and keep coming here.”

Jem snorted as he poured the espresso into the cup and started topping it up with hot water. “I’m sure the business would have fallen apart without your custom.” 

He wasn’t encouraged to make remarks like that to paying customers, but Jem had a feeling this man wouldn’t be offended. He had no doubt in his mind that Gabriel would have said worse.

His suspicions were correct. The man laughed (which was a delightful sound) and grinned widely at Jem. “I agree. I’m an asset to any business.” 

Jem laughed quietly as he popped a lid on the cup, and slid a cardboard ring around it. “Enjoy,” he said as he passed it across the counter. 

Their fingers brushed as he took the coffee. “Will you be working this shift all the time now?” he asked, wrapping his hands around the warmth of the cup. 

Jem nodded. “I think so, yes.” 

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, grinning and wiggling his fingers in a wave before he left the cafe.

Suddenly the thought of another morning shift didn’t seem quite so daunting.

* * *

 The next day, the anticipation of seeing the man again was all that got Jem through the rush hour. 

He didn’t know if it was just because he was more used to the shift, or if today’s customers were really less demanding, but the whole morning felt slightly less hectic.

There were still difficult customers, but none of them demanded refunds or threw tantrums. Before he knew it, it was half past nine and the rush had died down. He made himself a cup of tea – he tried not to drink coffee on the job, otherwise he felt too jittery and then crashed halfway through a shift – and started cleaning the coffee machine to kill time.

He let himself get absorbed in the simple task until there was a cheerful voice behind him. 

“Morning!” came a familiar voice.

In the morning rush, Jem had almost forgotten about him. He abandoned his cleaning and turned to the counter to serve him. “What can I get for you today?”

“We’re all business today, are we? No hello? No how are you?” he asked, leaning against the counter and grinning. 

Jem raised his eyebrows at him. “How are you?” 

The man practically beamed. “I’m wonderful, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Jem said automatically. He hadn’t really expected the question to be returned. 

“Can I have a latte today?” he asked, fishing change out of his pocket and holding it out to Jem. 

Jem took the change. He’d expected another order for an Americano; most regulars had the same thing every day. “Are you sure you want caffeine? You seem chirpy already.”

The man put a hand to his heart, looking offended. “What kind of barista questions his customers’ orders?” 

Jem stared at him. The man stared back. Both of their lips twitched as they tried not to laugh.

Jem turned around to make his latte, allowing himself a grin while he was facing away. 

“I didn’t tell you my name yesterday, did I?” the man asked, moving around to stand at the side of the counter again. 

Jem glanced up from where he’d been watching the coffee pour into the cup. “You didn’t.”

“I’m William. But you can call me Will,” he said, extending a hand across the counter. 

Jem shook his hand. “I’m James, but you can call me Jem.”

Will grinned and Jem let go of his hand, getting back to the coffee. “Is your hair naturally that colour?” he asked after a moment.

Jem automatically reached up to touch his hair. He had bleached white a couple of years ago and was used to people commenting on it. Usually he gave them a short answer, but Will sounded genuinely curious rather than judgmental. 

“I dyed it,” he said. “It’s…well. Not really a long story, but not the kind of story you want to hear on a Tuesday morning.”

Will frowned and rested his elbows on the counter again, leaning closer to Jem. “Are you okay?” 

The question startled Jem. He wasn’t used to people asking that kind of thing. Not in the way Will asked, anyway. Most people just asked it as a passing question, or a replacement for ‘how are you’. 

The way Will asked it felt like he could see straight through Jem’s careful façade of calm contentedness, though. 

“I’m fine,” Jem told him, hoping that Will would think he hesitated because he was pouring the coffee rather than over thinking the question. It wasn’t hard to smile when he stuck a lid on Will’s coffee and handed it over to him. “Enjoy.” 

“I’m sure I will,” Will said, giving Jem one last smile before leaving.

* * *

 They kept this routine up for the rest of the week. 

Jem would work through the morning rush and all its awkward customers, then would get a short while to relax, then Will would come in and they would have time to chat before Will went off to do whatever Will did and Jem kept working.

On Wednesday, Jem learned that Will was indeed from Wales and that he missed his sister. 

On Thursday, Will learned that Jem was from China, and that he refused to elaborate on his family.

On Friday, Jem had been reading when Will came in, which led to a longer discussion than usual. They learned that both of them were Hufflepuffs (even though Will professed to be a hybrid of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, he seemed more willing to be a Hufflepuff when he learned that that would put him in the same house as Jem).

Saturday morning was a far quieter shift for Jem. He was idle for the majority of the morning, and his mood was dampened more than he’d care to admit by the fact that Will didn’t show up that morning. 

On Sunday, Jem resigned himself to another morning of sitting behind the counter, serving only a few customers per hour. 

Until eleven, this was exactly what he did. Since he had more time on his hands, he practised latte art on the lattes that were ordered to sit in. At the beginning of the shift, his attempted cats looked like shapeless blobs and he stirred them into the coffee, but he felt like he was getting the hang of it. 

Two adolescent girls had ordered lattes, so Jem made a cat on one of the lattes and a panda on the other. 

He probably felt too proud of himself when they looked thrilled and immediately took pictures of the drinks, and his good mood only increased when he turned back to the counter to see Will standing there, looking as handsome as always. 

Jem forced all thoughts of how handsome Will was out of his mind and smiled at him. “Morning,” he said, partly because he knew Will would get annoyed if he didn’t and partly because he was beginning to think of Will as a friend.

“Good morning, James,” Will said brightly. 

Jem wasn’t sure why Will had started calling him James instead of Jem every so often, but it was strangely endearing. “What can I get for you today, William?” 

Will always looked thrilled when Jem used the full version of his name, so Jem kept doing it.

“Two lattes and two croissants, please,” Will said, already holding out a five pound note.

“Two?” Jem asked, taking the note and slotting it into the cash register while trying to subtly glance around the cafe. “Have you got a guest?” 

Will shook his head. He looked like he’d expected the question, but looked somewhat nervous all of a sudden. “Unless you’re busy, do you want to have breakfast with me?”

Jem’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” 

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you’ve already eaten or whatever,” Will said quickly. 

“No! I’d love to. I mean, I’ll have to stay here to keep serving, but as long as you don’t mind that,” Jem said, tapping his fingers on the counter. 

Will’s grin told Jem that he definitely didn’t mind that. Jem made the lattes quickly, decorating them both with little foam cats, before picking out two croissants and plating them up. 

When he gave Will his latte, Will immediately bent down to give the cat a closer look. “This is cute,” he said, straightening up and looking at Jem for a moment. “You’re a cat person, aren’t you?”

Jem nodded and tore the end off his croissant, dipping it into his coffee. “I am. Are you a dog person?” 

“How did you know?” Will asked. 

“You looked offended that I was a cat person,” Jem explained when he’d swallowed his bite of croissant. “I like dogs as well as cats, but dog people rarely like both.” 

Will snorted. “I don’t hate cats. It’s just that dogs are friendlier.”

Jem shot him a challenging look. “My cat is friendly with me,” he said defensively. “He never leaves me alone, actually.”

“Well, you’re different,” Will said, waving a hand dismissively.

Jem raised his eyebrows at him. 

“I mean, you’re Jem. It’s impossible not to like you,” Will added quickly.

Jem wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but Will’s cheeks looked a bit pink. “Thank you,” he said, smirking at him. 

Will rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. 

“My cat probably isn’t the best example of friendliness, anyway,” Jem added. “He loves me, but he hates most other people. I can’t have friends over without him hissing at them and running off to hide.”

“He sounds charming,” Will said dryly. 

Jem narrowed his eyes. “Are you insulting my cat?” 

“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” Will said. His smirk suggested that he would indeed dream of such a thing.

“Have you got any pets that I can insult?” Jem asked, leaning against the counter.

Will shook his head. “Nope. I lived near a farm in Wales and I kept trying to convince the owner to let me ride one of the horses but he wouldn’t let me.”

“I bet those horses were pure evil,” Jem said firmly. 

“What makes you say that?” Will asked, not making any effort to hide his amusement.

“If that’s the closest thing you had to a pet, I’m going to insult it,” Jem explained. “You insulted my cat, I’ll insult the horses that weren’t even yours.”

Will gave an exaggerated groan and leaned down to put his head in his hands. “You wound me, James.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jem said, absolutely no remorse in his tone. He reached up to pat Will’s curls, slightly surprised at how soft they were. He forced himself to drop his hand before he ended up freaking Will out by stroking his hair. “I won’t do it again.”

Will straightened up, looking pleased. “Good. I won’t insult your demon furball again.”

They ended up talking long after they had finished their coffee and croissants, and soon Gabriel came shuffling into the cafe. He looked surly, his expression only darkening when he saw Will. 

“Why are you talking to him?” he asked Jem, stepping behind the counter and letting his jacket fall from his shoulders.

Jem pulled his own coat on quickly. When Gabriel was in a mood like this, he would only bring Jem’s mood down for the rest of the day. “We were just chatting,” he told him, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything. 

Gabriel muttered something under his breath. Jem was sure it wasn’t anything particularly friendly.

“See you later, Gabe,” Will said, smirking.

“Don’t call me that,” Gabriel snapped. 

Jem left hastily, Will on his tail. 

“Do you make an effort to annoy him?” Jem asked, not even trying to conceal the amusement in his voice. 

Will shrugged. He looked like he was trying to look innocent. “Not necessarily. I just know how to push his buttons,” he said proudly. “Which way are you going?” 

Jem nodded to his left. “I need to get the tube home. You?”

“Same. Walk together?” Will asked, grinning his thousand-watt smile again. 

“I thought I’d cross the road and awkwardly bump into you when we got there,” Jem said dryly, easily falling into step with Will as they started walking. 

It felt strange seeing him outside the coffee shop. Until now it had kind of felt like Will was some kind of guardian angel sent to make the morning shift less awful.

“Have you got any fun plans for the rest of the day?” Will asked, their shoulders bumping together as they weaved their way through the tourist-heavy Sunday crowds.

Jem considered making up something exciting, but ended up just shaking his head. “I’ll probably go home and sleep until I get hungry,” he admitted. 

Will laughed and nudged him, this time on purpose. “That sounds like fun,” he teased. “I have to go home and read a book. Maybe try to convince my flatmate to cook dinner for me.”

“You don’t like cooking?” Jem asked.

“God, no. I’m awful at it. I mean, I can put together something edible, but there are only a few dishes in my repertoire and they get boring after about ten days,” Will explained. “I bet you’re some kind of culinary expert.”

Jem scrunched up his nose. “I wouldn’t say so. I mean, I have a couple of recipes from my parents, but…” he trailed off, the thought of his parents giving him the usual pang in his stomach. 

Will was looking at him with a strange mix of sympathy and curiosity. Not the nosey kind of curiosity, though; like he just wanted to make sure Jem was okay. 

“My parents died when I was twelve,” Jem added, glancing over at Will who looked somewhat startled.

Part of Jem wanted to elaborate further, but this was neither the place nor the time. Will was just a casual acquaintance and he probably wouldn’t appreciate it if Jem started crying in the middle of Regent Street.

“Sorry,” Will said after a moment, reaching up to squeeze Jem’s shoulder. 

Jem had never been a touchy-feely person – apart from with his parents – but that small touch was strangely comforting. “It’s fine. I just…don’t talk about it.”

“I know what you mean,” Will said, laughing without humour. Jem glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. Will looked back at him for a moment before speaking again. “My sister died when I was twelve.”

Jem let out a sigh. So Will did understand how it felt, to an extent. He was about to say something about bonding over dead immediate family, but decided that it would be inappropriate and instead just reached over to squeeze Will’s forearm. “Sorry about your sister.”

Will smiled at him. It wasn’t his usual blinding grin, but instead a smaller smile. Somehow it felt more personal. 

They entered Oxford Circus tube station, caught up in a crowd of lost-looking tourists. They managed to stick together until they got to a small pocket of space where they could stand without being jostled by people in a hurry. 

“I’m getting Central,” Jem said, gesturing towards the ticket barriers. 

“Victoria,” Will said, glancing over his shoulder. He would have to navigate through the crowds to get to his line. “I’ll see you soon?” 

Jem nodded. He probably looked forward to seeing Will every day a bit too much. “Definitely,” he agreed.

For a moment, Jem was sure they were going to kiss. They looked at each other, Will’s bright blue eyes boring into Jem’s dark ones, but then Will stepped backwards. “See you,” he repeated, before making his way across the station.

Jem watched after him for a moment and then turned to catch his own train in a considerably better mood than he had been in that morning.

* * *

 Most people talked about Monday morning blues, but Will was having none of that this morning. 

He didn’t usually feel too bad about going to work, anyway: he’d gotten extremely lucky with a job at a publishers, so his job was essentially to read books and decide whether or not they were good. He couldn’t ask for better, really.

And the offices were near the best coffee shop in London, in Will’s opinion.

The coffee had always been great, but now that it was served by Jem instead of Gabriel, it seemed to taste even better. Plus, his daily chat with Jem had become something to look forward to.

He took the familiar route to work and let himself into the cafe. As usual, there were a few people sitting at the tables inside to enjoy their drinks.

When Will turned to the counter, however, his favourite head of silvery hair wasn’t there. Instead, there was a man with short brown hair and a seemingly permanent tension in his shoulders.

Will barely stopped himself from groaning out loud. He approached the counter, leaning against it. Gabriel was facing the other way, clearly on his phone.

“Are you too busy to take my order?” he asked.

Gabriel turned around, looking unimpressed. “What do you want?” 

“Coffee,” Will said shortly. “I didn’t come for a chat.” 

_ ‘Not with you, anyway,’  _ Will’s mind helpfully supplied. 

Gabriel tutted and turned to switch the machine on. “What kind of coffee?”

“Americano,” Will said. He’d probably need it after talking to Gabriel. “Where’s Jem?”

“Probably still in bed,” Gabriel said unhelpfully. 

“I thought you swapped shifts with him,” Will said, determined to get at least one helpful bit of information out of Gabriel.

Gabriel was facing away, but Will could tell he was rolling his eyes. He hoped he burned himself while he wasn’t paying attention. “Only last week.”

Will sidled around to the side of the counter, where he usually spent too long chatting to Jem and ended up late for work. “When is his shift now?”

Gabriel gave a long-suffering sigh as he turned to give Will his coffee. “Twelve til four.” 

Will took the coffee and thrust his money into Gabriel’s hand. “Right. Thanks, Gabe. See you later.” 

Gabriel’s shout of _ ‘what have I told you about calling me that?!’  _ accompanied him out of the cafe.

* * *

 Jem vastly preferred his usual shift to the morning shift. He had gotten used to the early mornings and surly customers, but the afternoon was so much more relaxed. 

The only thing he missed was a certain customer. 

He tried to tell himself he was being stupid. Will was probably just one of those friendly people who chatted to everyone, it didn’t mean Jem was special. 

Still. He had enjoyed talking to Will – looked forward to it, in fact – and he would miss seeing him every day. 

A small, naive part of him hoped that he might still see Will. Maybe he sometimes came in for an afternoon coffee or something. 

He’d never seen him during his afternoon shift before, though, so he highly doubted it. 

Monday’s shift felt like it dragged on forever without a proper chat to break the monotony. Plus, he was harshly reminded of the disadvantage of the afternoon shift: children.

Specifically, children whose parents thought it was ‘adorable’ when they ran around the cafe turning over the sugar pots and screaming so loudly Jem was sure the windows would break.

He managed to get through the four hours without shouting at any spoiled children, though, and went home to try and distract himself with his violin for the evening.

Tuesday afternoon went by in a similar fashion. Jem nearly lost his patience at around half past three when a small blond boy threw a sugar dispenser at the window. 

“Can you not do that, please?” he asked, hoping that this wouldn’t be one of the mothers who took offence to people asking their children not to wreck places. He’d probably end up going viral on the internet as some kind of child-hating barista. 

The mother had the decency to look apologetic, though, scolding the child and leaving soon afterwards. 

Now the cafe was mostly filled with teenagers and young adults. Those were Jem’s favourite customers: they were the most polite, the least likely to be unreasonable about their orders and the most likely to be impressed by his foam cats, no matter how strange-looking they were.

He had just made a horribly lopsided cat for a teenage girl, and was about to just give up and stir it into the drink when she stopped him.

“No! Leave it, it’s cute,” she insisted. 

Jem was surprised, but left the strange cat as it was, giving her the latte. She took it to her table and immediately started taking pictures of it from various angles. 

Jem hoped that she genuinely thought it was cute and that she wasn’t going to post it on Instagram on a ‘shitty latte art of London’ page.

That would just be the icing on the cake. Becoming internet famous for hating children and being terrible at latte art. 

He supposed he could be known for worse things. He served a few more customers, and was just about to get ready to leave at four when there was a familiar voice behind him.

“Thank god I got here on time. I thought I wouldn’t get off work on time,” Will said.

When Jem turned around, Will looked flustered and pink-cheeked as if he’d been running.

“You’re not usually here in the afternoons,” Jem said, unable to keep an embarrassing grin off his face. 

“You are, therefore I will be,” Will said firmly. 

Jem didn’t know what to say. Had Will really changed his routine so that he could come and see Jem? Surely not. That was ridiculous. 

He tried not to let himself get distracted by how good Will looked with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows shining on him.

“What can I get for you?” Jem asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strangled to Will as it did in his own ears.

“Latte, please,” Will said as he held the money out for Jem as usual.

Jem put the money in the register and before he’d even turned to start making the drink, Will was standing at the side of the counter. 

“Did you have a good day?” Jem asked, smiling over at him. 

Will shrugged. “Not awful. Had to read an awful manuscript for a new vampire novel. It was basically Twilight with different names. And Twilight was already mostly copied from other things.”

Jem laughed, concentrating on steaming the milk before replying. “I take it you don’t like vampires, then?”

“God, no. I mean, I used to, but after the Twilight craze we got so many vampire manuscripts we almost had to make a new department just for them,” Will explained, rolling his eyes. “I work at a publishers, by the way.”

Jem nodded. That made sense, he supposed. “I thought you might just have a normal office job but you sat reading all day instead of doing any work.”

“Reading is work, my dear James,” Will said, winking as Jem gave him his coffee.

Jem steadfastly ignored the strange tingle in his spine. Will had no right to be calling him ‘his dear James’ and winking at the same time. 

“What do you get up to when you’re not making excellent coffee?” Will asked. 

“I play the violin,” Jem told him. “My father taught me to play it. I don’t make nearly enough to earn a living, though.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “I bet you’re good.”

“What makes you say that?” Jem asked, turning around when the door of the cafe opened. It was the lady who took the shift following his own, Sophie. He gave her a smile as she let herself in behind the counter.

“You’re…you know. Good with your hands,” Will told him. 

Sophie coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Is this Will?” she asked, tying an apron around her waist and leaning against the counter beside Jem.

Will nodded and looked between them. “Am I some kind of celebrity with the staff here?” he asked, smirking.

Sophie shook her head. “Gabriel just said you were an annoying idiot with a face like a slapped arse.” 

Jem laughed. Will tried to look offended for a moment, but his lips quirked into a smile. “Does he complain about me a lot?” 

“Oh, all the time. Anyone would think he fancied you,” Sophie said, smiling innocently as she turned to serve a customer. 

Will looked horrified at the mere concept. 

Jem laughed and patted his arm. “I’m sure Gabriel won’t be proposing to you anytime soon. Are you getting the tube again?”

Will nodded and allowed Jem to lead him out of the cafe, both of them calling quick goodbyes to Sophie on their way out. 

Will didn’t notice Sophie giving Jem an enthusiastic thumbs up as they passed, though.

“Do you really hate Gabriel that much?” Jem asked, amused.

“It’s not that I hate him, it’s just that he repulses me,” Will said firmly.

Jem laughed. “He isn’t the easiest to get along with. But he’s not too bad if you don’t insult him personally.” 

Will snorted into his coffee. “That’s easier said than done, James. I like to think of myself as a nice person but when I’m with him I just need to let him know how awful he is.”

Jem rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you wouldn’t do it if he didn’t deserve it,” he said placidly. 

“Exactly!” Will exclaimed, looking over at Jem. “I’m so glad you understand.”

Jem knew he was joking, but there was something about the way Will was looking at him that made him feel like he needed to either lie in a dark room for a while or have a cold shower.

They stood in the station for almost half an hour talking about nothing and everything. When they parted ways, Jem felt that feeling again. For a moment he thought Will was going to kiss him. For a moment he thought he was going to kiss Will. 

They went their separate ways, though, Will wiggling his fingers at Jem and grinning. 

Jem waved back, feeling like he was in a daze as he tried to sort through his feelings.

Will was an enthusiastic and friendly person, so while some of the things he did would probably be seen as flirting if other people did them, for Will it might have been normal friendship. 

Jem resolved to let things happen naturally. The last thing he wanted was to ask Will out and be rejected, and for their friendship to be ruined.

* * *

 Jem kept preparing himself for a shift without Will. For a few days he was sure Will wouldn’t change his routine just to see Jem, but by Friday he let himself believe it.

Will usually came in just before Jem’s shift ended, so they had time for a chat, for Sophie to come in and tease Jem about flirting on the job while Will was distracted, and then walk to the tube station together. 

Jem found himself feeling far more enthusiastic about everything now that he had this to look forward to every day. 

He had enjoyed talking to Will in the morning, of course, but they’d only been able to chat for fifteen minutes at most before Will had to go to work. This week, though, they had ended up talking for almost an hour when they got to the station. 

Church was always annoyed at Jem when he got home, and wouldn’t let him stroke him for a few minutes, but he never stayed in a bad mood for long.

And it was definitely worth it to talk to Will.

Jem had Saturday off. He felt ridiculous, but he kept wondering if Will would go to the cafe today and wonder where he was. 

The more reasonable part of his brain reminded him that Will hadn’t been at the cafe last Saturday. Even if he did show up, the fact that Jem wasn’t there surely wouldn’t make that much of a difference to his day.

For most of the day, Jem felt like he was at a loose end. Nothing he did felt satisfying. He managed to entertain himself playing with Church for a while, but eventually Church curled up on the sofa beside him to sleep. 

Jem left him to nap, suddenly struck with an idea. He changed into jeans and a shirt, pushing his hair out of his eyes and checking himself in the mirror before picking up his violin case and leaving his flat.

* * *

 He’d always loved playing the violin, but had never auditioned for any music schools or anything. 

Sometimes he went through periods of inspiration where he would play non-stop and write music. These were the times he wished he’d gone to music school.

Most of the time, though, he was barely willing to pick up the violin, let alone play it. 

The mere thought of his parents was enough to make his stomach twist into knots, and playing the violin usually brought back vivid memories of his father teaching him to play it, and his mother sitting through his screechy playing when he had been a young boy.

She had always said he was wonderful, of course, even if in hindsight she had looked strained when he played for her. It was obvious when his playing improved that her compliments became more genuine, though.

It had taken him almost a year to play again after they had died. Whenever he picked the instrument up, he could only think of his parents’ faces in the last moments of their lives.

After he’d moved to London, he had started getting therapy.

He’d been placed with a young married couple, Charlotte and Henry, who were extremely kind to him. Part of Jem had wanted to be hostile back to them, afraid that his parents would think he was trying to replace them, but whenever he’d tried, his mother’s voice had echoed through his mind.

She had always taught him to be kind to everyone, no matter how they treated him. Even if it was difficult sometimes, Jem tried his best to follow this advice. On the rare occasion he let his temper get the better of him, he felt like he was disappointing her and it was never worth it in the end.

Jem had always been polite to Charlotte and Henry, but both of them saw through him. When neither of them could convince him to talk to them about his parents, they had sent him to a therapist. 

For a few weeks, Jem had been determinedly positive in the therapy sessions. He told her that everything was fine, he liked London, Charlotte and Henry were lovely, school was fine.

One day something inside him had broken, though, and everything had come flooding out. People coming into their house, restraining his parents, hurting him, hurting  _ them,  _ and then killing them. 

The police had arrived straight after Jem’s parents had been killed. At least once a week he fervently wished that they had arrived a few minutes earlier. 

He sometimes wondered what his life would have been like if his parents had lived. 

Would he have stayed in Shanghai? Would he be a professional musician by now? Would he have found something else that he was interested in?

Would he have spent most of his teenage years struggling with depression and everything that came with it? 

He got through school with decent grades. He had a suspicion that Charlotte and Henry had quietly notified his teachers of his depression, and part of him wanted to be annoyed at them, but for the most part he was grateful. 

The only time anyone picked on him was when he first bleached his hair, and even then it wasn’t anything particularly harsh.

Even though he was quiet, most people at school liked him. He kept to himself but was polite when spoken to, and he always worked well in group projects. That was enough for most people.

When he came in one Monday with pale white hair instead of his usual jet black, people had asked questions. 

_ “What did you do to your hair?! It was so nice before!”  _ one of the girls had said. She had probably been trying to be nice.

In class, a few people asked him about it. One boy in particular hassled him about it for the whole of first period until Jem turned around and smiled as politely as he could.

_ “White is the Chinese colour of mourning,”  _ he had said simply.

That had wiped the smile off his face. Since then, nobody had asked about it and Jem had been left alone. 

Thinking about questions about his hair led Jem to thoughts about Will. 

On the second day they had met, Will had asked about his hair.

He was sure it was weird that he remembered small details of their conversations like that. 

Most people asked him like they were accusing him of something. As if it personally offended them that Jem had chosen to dye it.

When Will asked, he had just sounded curious. The way he always sounded when he asked questions which usually irritated Jem. 

As they had gotten to know each other, Jem had discovered that Will was just one of those naturally curious people who liked to find out as much as they could about things. Not necessarily for personal gain, just because they liked to learn things.

_ Will.  _

It was strange how much of an impact Will had had on Jem’s life. He had friends before Will, of course, but he had never felt such an easy connection with someone.

He usually had to think about everything he said, and whether or not it was appropriate for the situation, but with Will the conversation flowed naturally. 

If they didn’t always have other commitments he was sure they would have no issue chatting for hours on end. 

He wouldn’t let his thoughts go there, though. Will was a friend, and they enjoyed talking, but that didn’t mean there was anything more between them. And Jem could deal with that. He was just grateful to have someone to talk to.

Jem snapped out of his reverie when a young girl clapped. 

He had almost forgotten that he was playing in Hyde Park, standing just to the side of the path by the Serpentine. 

The girl’s parents gave him an apologetic wave, assuming she’d interrupted him, but he smiled at the family and kept playing, letting himself get lost in the music again.

* * *

 Will hated having to share a flat. His flatmate was nice enough, but he perpetually left the kitchen in a mess and Will often doubted whether or not it was safe to use.

That meant that he often ended up wasting money on getting dinner out. After seeing yet another mountain of dishes by the sink, most of them still with old food stuck to them, Will decided that it was definitely a night for a takeaway. 

Plus, the weather was starting to get a bit nicer which meant he wouldn’t have to put on a thousand layers before going out. 

He did pull on a jacket – it was the evening, after all – and set out. 

After a few stops on the tube, which was packed with people, Will disembarked. It was still early and he could do with a walk in the fresh air before finding something cheap and decent for dinner.

He made his way through the streets before coming to the wide green expanse of Hyde Park. 

He didn’t have anywhere specific to go, but he found himself following the paths until he was walking alongside the water. 

Despite the fact that the sun was setting, casting a rosy glow over the park, there were still families strolling around and playing on the grass.

Will liked to think he was good at staying cheerful, but it was times like these that he really found himself missing his family. He loved London, and he loved his job, but he missed the wide, open fields of home, and his mother’s cooking and his father’s terrible jokes. And Cecily’s relentless teasing, of course, and Ella.

Ella who he’d never see again.

He usually tried not to think about her, but it was unavoidable. She had died ten years ago but Will still missed her. 

Of course he loved Cecily and his parents dearly, but Ella had been his big sister. She was supposed to be there to make fun of Will and teach him how to do things, but she’d died when he was twelve and she was fourteen.

He had talked to his parents about it, but he knew it just upset them more, so he kept it to himself. 

He stopped in his tracks.

There was music coming from somewhere.

This wasn’t unusual for a Saturday night in Hyde Park, but this music was different.

It was quiet, and Will was sure it was a violin. Or a fiddle. One of those little stringed instruments, anyway.

But it felt like it was taking Will’s thoughts and translating them into music.

All his sorrow for losing Ella without really appreciating her was perfectly encapsulated in the slow rhythm. 

Will followed the sound until he saw a familiar head of white hair. 

He slowed down. Surely it couldn’t be.

He got closer. A thin, elegant face; his eyes closed as he played the violin.

Jem. James. His Jem. 

Will didn’t know when he’d started referring to Jem as ‘his Jem’, but as long as he didn’t accidentally say it out loud, he was fine.

He forced himself to calmly sit on a bench a little way away from Jem, not wanting to distract him from his playing.

Of course Jem had always been beautiful to Will, but he looked positively angelic in the rays of the setting sun, wringing such beautiful sounds from his violin.

Will didn’t know what it was about Jem that made him want to tell him personal things. 

Usually he didn’t mention Ella to anybody unless they were his parents, but then Jem had mentioned his parents’ death, and Will had found himself telling Jem about Ella. 

Not much about her, admittedly, but he mentioned it to him which was more than he had done with anyone else he knew.

Maybe at first it had been the anonymity of him being a barista, but then they had become more like friends. And usually Will kept a sort of barrier between him and his friends, determined to keep his secrets secret, but he sort of wanted to tell Jem everything.

It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

Will settled back on the bench and watched Jem. He was no expert in music, and had never had much interest in classical music before, but Jem was different. 

He felt like he could feel the emotions in the music as he played. From sorrow to confusion to sadness and, eventually, to tentative happiness. He was practically hypnotised until a small girl who had been sitting with her parents clapped, and Jem opened his eyes.

For a moment, Will was worried Jem would stop playing, but he just smiled at the girl and continued. It didn’t feel quite so intense this time, though; his eyes were open and he seemed to be playing for the fun of it rather than trying to express anything. 

The people who had been watching him started to disperse. Will stayed where he was. Jem might not have been playing seriously anymore, but he was still talented and Will felt like he was transfixed.

When it got darker and the streetlights switched on, Jem looked somewhat startled, as if he hadn’t realised the time. He bent to put his violin and bow back in the case. 

Will considered letting him go. They had only met at the coffee shop before, and they walked to the tube together, but maybe that didn’t mean anything. Jem was clearly a friendly person, maybe he was just indulging Will’s talkative nature.

When Jem had shouldered his case and started walking in the opposite direction, Will realised he was being ridiculous.

He stood and ran after Jem, dodging around a couple of families before he managed to grab Jem’s arm. 

Jem whirled around, looking startled, but he relaxed immediately when he saw Will. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a smile already on his face.

Will let go of his arm when he realised he was still holding it. “I saw you playing,” he explained, gesturing back to the spot where Jem had been standing. “You’re really good.” 

Jem laughed sheepishly and shrugged, fiddling with the strap on his violin case. “Thanks. I was just…making it up, really.”

Will rolled his eyes fondly. “Don’t be modest.”

“I’ll take a leaf out of your book,” Jem teased, smirking at him. 

“At least I admit that I’m not modest in any way shape or form,” Will told him, grinning and glancing around the park. 

He could either say bye to Jem now and leave this as a friendly encounter, or he could take a risk. 

If he took the risk, it would probably still just be a friendly thing. And that was fine. Jem was sweet and genuinely funny and easy to talk to. That was everything Will needed in a friend.

He was also unfairly attractive, but that was also fine. He might not even have been interested in men. Will could handle having attractive friends.

Will steeled himself for a moment before speaking. “Do you want to go for dinner with me?” 

Jem had been laughing at Will’s previous comment, but he stopped when Will spoke, staring at him for a moment. 

Will was about to apologise and run away to hide in a cave for the rest of his life when a smile broke across Jem’s face. Not his usual small, amused smile either; a proper grin which lit up his face and made the corners of his eyes squinch up.

Will decided that it should be illegal for somebody to be so cute.

“I’d love to,” Jem agreed, shrugging his violin onto his shoulder more securely. “Did you have anywhere in mind?” 

“I was just going to wander around and see where I ended up,” Will said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I don’t mind if you want to go somewhere specific, though.” 

Jem shook his head and turned to walk forwards, their elbows bumping together as he put his hands in his own pockets. “Wandering sounds fine.”

* * *

 They started walking at six. 

They got too wrapped up in conversation and didn’t end up finding somewhere to eat until eight, both of them with sore feet and growling stomachs.

The burger restaurant they found was very nice and relatively cheap, so that suited both of them. Plus, they got what was essentially a bucket of chips to share, so they certainly weren’t about to go hungry. 

Jem insisted that there was no way they’d finish the chips, but when they had both finished the burgers and kept talking, the chip bucket was almost empty.    
In fact, there were two chips left at the bottom.

“I dare you to eat one,” Will said, pushing the bucket towards Jem.

“I’m never eating again,” Jem said firmly. He was sure he’d never been so full in his life. 

“I double dare you to eat one,” Will insisted, grinning devilishly.

Jem narrowed his eyes at him and took the smaller of the two chips. “If I throw up it’s your fault,” he told him, eating the chip. 

He didn’t throw up. He folded his arms on the table, smiling triumphantly. “I dare you to eat the other one.”

Will didn’t hesitate to do so, sitting back in his chair when he had swallowed it. “Told you we’d finish them,” he said smugly. 

Jem rolled his eyes and thanked the waitress when she came to clear their plates.

They split the bill and were soon walking again, their shoulders pressed together more often than not. 

“Have you got plans for the rest of the night?” Jem asked, leaning closer to Will so his violin wouldn’t get jostled too much in the crowds.

Will shook his head. “Nope. Go home and bemoan my flatmate for not having basic hygiene skills, probably. You?” 

“Go home and feed my cat,” Jem said, laughing. He had never been a particularly impulsive person before, and he didn’t want to be, but before he could stop himself he’d opened his mouth again. “You can come with me if you want.” 

Will was quiet for a moment. Jem was ready to make a U-turn and run straight back to Covent Garden to hide, but then Will spoke.

“Really?” he asked, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

Even if Jem _had_ been joking, he would have invited him home just because of that smile. He nodded. “Of course. As long as you don’t mind the cat.” 

“I won’t get on his nerves at all,” Will said firmly, grinning.

* * *

 As it turned out, Will had been very wrong about that. 

When they got to Jem’s flat, Jem had gone to put his violin in his bedroom, leaving Will in the hallway. 

Before he could do anything, a grey furball with a squashed face had come darting out of the living room. Will had been just about to reach down and pet it when it hissed at him and ran to Jem’s bedroom door, clawing at it.

Jem pulled the door open and Church practically threw himself at him. 

“It’s okay, Churchy,” Jem cooed as he gathered the cat into his arms, scratching his ears and kissing his nose. “He’s not a burglar, he’s Will. He’s my friend,” he explained. 

Will had never really had a pet so he’d never understood the whole talking-to-your-pet-as-if-they-were-your-child-thing, but when Jem did it he was sure he’d never seen anything so sweet. “Did you tell him that I called him a demon?” he asked as he toed his shoes off.

Jem laughed and shook his head, wandering through to the kitchen. “Nope. He just doesn’t like a lot of people. I asked the vet about it and she said it’s because he’s protective of me,” he explained. 

Will followed Jem, making a mental note that the kitchen was spotlessly clean. He looked over to Church. “I promise I won’t hurt him,” he told him. 

Church didn’t look impressed. He meowed loudly and started squirming in Jem’s arms. 

“You’re so whiny,” Jem grumbled, bending down to deposit the cat on the floor where he quickly ran to a different room. “Do you want some tea?” he asked when he straightened up.

“I’d love some,” Will agreed, leaning against the counter. 

“Is oolong alright?” Jem asked as he poked around in his cupboard. “I don’t think I’ve got any of the English breakfast stuff.”

Will was mostly distracted by looking around Jem’s flat. “Oolong is fine,” he agreed absently. It was decorated minimally, but it was still unmistakably Jem. 

There were books of sheet music on the small kitchen table and a cat bed in the corner of the room. Cookbooks were lined up on top of the cupboards, in both Chinese and English, and jars of spices were neatly lined up against one wall.

“It’s so neat,” Will said wistfully, straightening the jar of saffron.

Jem laughed, smiling over at Will as he waited for the kettle to boil. “Your flatmate leaves a mess?” 

“All the time,” Will sighed. “I don’t think his parents ever taught him how to wash up. Or that someone else has to wash up for him when he doesn’t do it.” 

Jem scrunched up his nose as he poured the tea. “Sounds horrible. If the mould comes to life, feel free to come over here,” he said. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “you don’t need to wait for the mould to come to life. Come over whenever.”

Will beamed at him. “You’ll regret that, James. You’ll never get rid of me,” he threatened.

“I doubt it, William,” Jem said, handing him a mug of tea. 

Will felt a weird thrill shoot down his spine when Jem called him William. 

They ended up in the living room, Jem curled up on the sofa with Church in his lap while Will looked over the bookshelf. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Will said when he was satisfied, sitting opposite Jem and taking a tentative sip of his tea despite the fact that it was still slightly too hot.

Jem rubbed Church’s tummy to stop him from hissing at Will again. “What would you have done if I didn’t have good taste?” 

“I would’ve left immediately,” Will said, that ridiculous and endearing grin back on his face. “I can’t date someone who has a bad taste in books.” 

Jem’s eyes went wide and his hand stilled in Church’s fur. 

Will looked confused. Then he ran back through what he’d said and smacked his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god,” he said, the words muffled by his hand. “I just–” he dropped his hand, “I didn’t mean date, I just meant–”

Jem resumed stroking the cat and narrowed his eyes at Will. “Is this an elaborate way of saying no homo?” 

That broke the weird tension that had settled over them for a few seconds. Will laughed, running his fingers through his curls. “No. I mean…well…” he looked lost for words.

Jem felt like he should make the most of it – Will didn’t seem like he was often speechless – but his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Would you want to date me?” Will blurted out. After he’d asked, he had a sort of panicky look on his face, like he wanted to take the words back.

Jem didn’t even have to consider it, but he waited a few seconds to answer, his eyes fixed on Will’s. “I would definitely want to,” he agreed.

Will looked like he was either going to faint or start screaming. Jem hoped he would do neither.

“So…shall we?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows. “Date, I mean.”

“I think I’d enjoy that,” Jem agreed, smiling at him. He tried to reign it in, but he was sure he was doing that embarrassing smitten smile.

Will let out a long breath and tipped his head back. He looked relieved, like there was a weight off his shoulders. “Was tonight our first date, then?” he asked when he’d lifted his head back up.

“I don’t know,” Jem said, keeping his expression carefully blank. 

“What?” Will asked. He looked concerned. It was cute, really. “Wasn’t it–”

“Don’t people sometimes kiss on first dates?” Jem asked coyly.

Will looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “You want to–?” 

Jem sat up straighter, holding a hand out to Will.

Will took it. Their fingers linking together felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

Jem pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching. Only when Will was leaning over him like that did he remember that Church was still in his lap. 

For a moment he prayed to every god he could think of, and his parents’ spirits, that Church would stay calm, but when the cat started emitting a weird growling noise, he realised that nothing, not even deities or his parents, would stop Church.

He pushed Will away. Will looked panicked, but relaxed slightly when Jem stood and put Church in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. 

Jem sat beside him, lacing their fingers together again. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, leaning closer to him. Will’s blue eyes were the only things he could see.   


Will nodded, and before either of them could say anything else they were kissing. 

It was short and sweet, but still sent what felt like bolts of electricity through Jem’s body. 

They looked at each other for a moment. They leaned in again, and their lips just met when there was a loud yowl from outside the door, and the sound of claws against wood.

Their eyes met and there was silence for a moment before both of them burst out laughing, Jem draping his arms around Will’s shoulders and Will wrapping his arms around Jem’s middle.

“Will you still go out with me if your cat hates me?” Will asked, trailing his fingers up and down Jem’s side lightly. 

Jem pretended to consider it for a moment, but spoke quickly when Will started to look panicky again. “I think so. You’re quite nice so I can make an exception.” 

Will squeezed Jem tight against him. “Can I still come and bother you when you’re at work?” 

“By all means,” Jem agreed, reaching up to brush his fingers through Will’s hair like he’d wanted to do since they had met. It felt even better than he’d hoped. “You can bother me even more now. Kiss me in front of horrible customers and make them uncomfortable.”

“That’s very unprofessional of you, James,” Will said sternly, bumping their noses together gently. 

Jem snorted and pecked Will’s lips. “What are you gonna do, spank me?” 

Will pulled back, eyes wide. 

Jem didn’t know why he’d said that. He couldn’t think of anything to say to break the silence.

After a few seconds, Will snorted, then burst out laughing, leaning forward to press his forehead against Jem’s shoulder as he shook with laughter.

Jem wanted to cringe at himself, but instead he buried his nose in Will’s hair, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

* * *

 Jem found himself wishing he’d asked Will out earlier. When they’d gotten back to the flat it had been quarter to ten. It felt like Will had only been there for an hour or two, but when he looked at the time it was nearly two o’clock. 

Will hooked  his chin over Jem’s shoulder. They were curled up on the sofa together, shitty nighttime TV playing in the background. Will was borrowing a pair of pyjama bottoms which were too big on Jem, but fit him alright, and a hoodie. 

When they’d gone to sit on the sofa after changing, Will had sprawled himself across the sofa leaving no room for Jem. 

Jem knew he was joking, but before he had time to move he sat on top of Will, laying on top of him. 

Will had been still for a few moments, but soon enough he had wrapped his arms loosely around Jem. 

Eventually they had moved into a more comfortable position, with Will’s legs stretched across the sofa and Jem sitting between them, leaning back against Will’s chest.

“Have you got work in the morning?” Will asked, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jem’s jaw. 

“No. You?” Jem mumbled, linking his fingers together with Will’s. 

“Nope. No plans,” Will said. He ran his fingertips across the strip of bare skin where Jem’s t-shirt had ridden up and Jem shivered. 

“Stay as long as you want,” Jem told him, turning his head to kiss Will’s lips again. 

He could feel Will smiling against his lips. “Trust me,” he mumbled between kisses. “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> who asked for a 10k heronstairs coffee shop au?? NOBODY!!!
> 
> I've been working on this for SO LONG and I just kept adding more, in fact there's still more I kind of wanted to write but I liked wrapping it up there!! Maybe I'll add more one day!
> 
> I love Will and Jem so much, and maybe I'm looking in the wrong places but I find it nigh on impossible to find good Heronstairs fic! (.﹒︣︿﹒︣.) I've read some fantastic fics, some of my favourite fics ever are heronstairs, but I feel like there isn't much!
> 
> I hope I did their characters justice, one of my favourite things is Will being all careful and gentle and flustered while Jem just wants to be kissed silly!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoy! <3


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